Questions & Answers

Journalist Ethan Michaeli had a pressing question when he interviewed for a job with the celebrated black newspaper the Chicago Defender in 1991. “Do white people work here?” he asked.

City editor Alberta Leak laughed and assured him that they did—and always had. Michaeli landed the job, embarking on a journalism career and a yearslong education in the history of white and black America. Now Michaeli is sharing what he learned in his new book, The Defender: How the Legendary Black Newspaper Changed America.

It turns out that Michaeli’s interview query illuminated an important aspect of the Defender’s vision and impact. He was far from the first white employee. “I wasn’t even the101st, not even probably the 1,001st,” he says. “I realized that just as Frederick Douglass’ vision of America was an integrated vision, one that respected everybody for their own background and perspectives, that’s what the Defender always was. It’s an African-American–owned newspaper that works for an integrated country.”

It’s hard for domestic violence victims to see a path to safety, let alone travel it. They have to survive the violence itself, overcome the guilt, shame and alienation it causes, and risk death or injury to escape. They have to secure shelter, food and clothing and navigate a mire of legal proceedings to distance themselves from their abusers. Often with few resources and little hope.

When we think of someone escaping abuse, the red tape of protective orders, divorce, custody, name changes or emancipations aren’t the obstacles that spring to mind. Yet legal services are among the most powerful tools to get—and stay—out of a violent relationship for the long term, says Heather Bellino, executive director of the Texas Advocacy Project. They are crucial to giving victims the space and security they need to forge new, better lives for themselves and their children.

Bellino leads a non-profit law firm that provides these services free of charge to the people who need them most. And she’s on a mission to raise community awareness of the legal side of survival so that victims know where to turn and their supporters are better informed to assist. I toured her office and interviewed her to help spread the word.

Sarah Scarbrough exudes passion and pragmatism. She’s internal program director for the Richmond City Justice Center in Virginia (formerly the Richmond City Jail), and she’s serious about giving offendersanother chance. To help these most disadvantaged, dismissed members of our society, Scarbrough takes a holistic approach in partnership with other agencies and the community at large.

I saw Scarbrough in action in February, when I participated in an event designed to help volunteers and philanthropists understand the connection between incarceration and homelessness.

At the Justice Center, our group heard inmates describe the effectiveness of Scarbrough’s rehabilitation program and lament their prospects for continuing progress after being released. The average number of incarcerations is 7.7 among the men and women in the RCJC Program that Scarbrough oversees.

“Somebody could have the utmost motivation while in jail, in the program, but if they’re released and they are homeless, or they don’t have the proper preparation to be released, they’re going to revert back to the old ways,” Scarbrough says.

Sometimes the best thing an emergency room doctor can give a kid is a book. In a world where low-income children hear 30 million fewer words than more affluent peers, literacy’s the true life-saver. Sutures and IVs can do only so much to address the aftermath of poverty–violence, drugs and abuse–that accounts for so many ER visits.

Just ask Dr. Robin Foster, chief of pediatric emergency services at VCU Medical Center, who says she makes as much impact with social engagement as with medical intervention. Foster helped found in-hospital programs dedicated to child advocacy, youth violence prevention and literacy–all with the goal of reducing the need for emergency services by nipping issues before they reach crisis levels.

Read on to see how Foster and her colleagues promote early literacy and school readiness as a site of Reach Out and Read, a national program that integrates children’s books and parental advice into medical visits.

She wrote consistently, press releases and such, but not in the format or for the audience she preferred. Caught in a cycle of “almost writing,” it was her reading life that nudged her to go pro with the kind of writing she loved. Observing other authors telling Latino stories gave her inspiration and confidence to tell some of her own. Ten years later, she’s the award-winning author of four books for children and young adults, with a fifth on the way.

Months ago, I interviewed Katie Meyler, founder of a nonprofit devoted to getting girls off the street and into school in Liberia. I was so impressed by her story, and the magnitude of her efforts to serve destitute girls, that I held onto my notes, intending to write a long feature about her.

The former education reporter in me wanted to collect more data, visit the school, interview students, and see for myself the impact this one passionate woman makes. In short, I wanted to write something that would do Katie’s work justice.

Then Ebola hit and I learned never to put off sharing a good story as soon as I hear it. Below is a Q&A from my call with Katie. (Better late than never!)

Angela Patton captured the hearts and imaginations of hundreds of thousands of online viewers with a TED talk describing an unusual (and uplifting) father-daughter dance–between incarcerated dads and their young daughters. The dance was the fruit of a girl-led social-change project convened by a grassroots organization Patton began in Richmond, Va.

In every setting, Patton brings a palpable enthusiasm, a drive to connect and uplift that I wish I could bottle up and spread around. She’s not “busy,” she’s driven–and I love it. I admire her ability to be an engaged, attentive mom, even as she expands her own capacity and power to lead on a national scale as executive director of Girls for a Change. She illustrates daily that womanhood and motherhood aren’t impediments to leadership and in fact can be powerful catalysts for it.

When Emily Elliott’s oldest child Charlie was ready for kindergarten, she followed him to school, literally, taking a job as a fifth-grade teacher at his campus, St. Edward-Epiphany Catholic School. “It was as close to homeschool as you can get without going insane,” she jokes.

Taking the job was a way for Elliott to earn needed income and be close to her children. Today, she’s the school’s principal, and still treasures the connection with her kids. I talked with her about leadership and the trade-offs she’s made to do her best as a full-time mother and full-time educator.

Jenny Holmgrain is a college student who is busy mounting her first camp, as the founder and co-director of Camp Kesem VCU. While other students are studying, partying or loafing, Holmgrain is raising funds, recruiting staff and creating a safe haven for kids.

The student-run chapter of a national organization hopes to host 30 campers—all children affected by a parent’s cancer—at a free weeklong residential camp at Camp Horizons, in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s a cause close to my heart—both Holmgrain and I lost our fathers to cancer.

Most of the women I’ve interviewed on this site are very successful in a traditional sense. They’ve worked hard, climbed the corporate ladder (or entrepreneurial jungle gym) and racked up obvious markers of career stature–big titles, material comforts and earning power.

Tamika Lamison illustrates a very different, but intriguing, path–the journey of a woman who hasn’t yet figured out how to make a great (financial) living from her work but has enjoyed her own esoteric brand of success. The actress/writer/director/producer has kept her expenses ruthlessly low in L.A., a city not known for affordability. Committed to following her passions, she gives much of her labor away for free when working as the founder and executive director of the volunteer-run Make A Film Foundation.

Hey There!

I’m Maya Payne Smart, a book lover and reviewer. I split my time between speed reading and slow writing, usually about dynamic women who lift as they climb. My specialty? Delivering life-changing reads to world-changing women.